


5 Times Pete Needed Patrick, and 1 Time Patrick Needed Pete

by Youngblood_the_Killjoy



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: 5+1 Things, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bars and Pubs, Depression, Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Insomnia, Jailbait!Patrick, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Rape/Non-con Elements, Songwriting, Suicide Attempt, Van Days, does that count, innocent pattycakes, very very close call for non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4272738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youngblood_the_Killjoy/pseuds/Youngblood_the_Killjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled: Reasons Why Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump Should Always Stay Within a Five-Foot Radius of Each Other</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Pete Needed Patrick, and 1 Time Patrick Needed Pete

**Author's Note:**

> The downside to living across the street to the East River is the loud fireworks disrupting my writing aura. >:(  
> Enjoy.  
> Edited because I realised that I left out like half a paragraph. Oops.

**1\. All Those Sleepless Nights**

It was a relatively quiet night in a relatively quiet motel that they were able to afford with the money they had gotten for their performances. Pete and Patrick shared one bed, Joe and Andy the other. Everyone was sleeping soundly. Everyone but Pete that is. He was lying awake staring at Patrick, dreaming his little dreams. _I wonder what he's dreaming about,_ he thought. Soon enough, thinking about it was not enough and he had to find out for sure.

So he poked.

And poked.

And poked.

Until he saw Patrick entering the stage of waking up he likes to call the "Confused Kitten" stage. It was the cutest thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

"Pete?" said Patrick, sleepily rubbing his eyes. "What the fuck, dude, it's like 4 in the morning."

"I can't sleep."

He sighed in response, already knowing what to do. "Come here," he said, opening his arms. Pete promptly wrapped his arms around Patrick's torso, throwing a leg over Patrick's legs as he wrapped his arms around Pete.

_"Honey is for bees sillybear..."_

 

**2\. That One Time Outside the Bar Near the Venue**

They had just finished a show somewhere in Kansas or something, no one was really paying attention anyway. No one cared. Cause they fucking _killed_ it tonight. Everyone's energy level was just through the roof, it was just...awesome. So they had to go celebrate. This couldn't go uncelebrated. That would just be a _crime._ So, naturally, they all went a bar, since no one gave a shit whether minors were drinking or not. No one but Patrick, of course. He went into "tour mother" mode, telling them their limits for the night. Pete had decided that Patrick was being too uptight and stepped in.

"Pattycakes, calm down, I'm of age, I'll be managing their drinks," Pete said coolly. "I'll make sure they don't drink too much." The funny thing was, Pete had stayed true to his word. He made sure that all drinkers of the four that were underage only had 2-4 drinks of light beer only. However, he himself had whiskey shots, scotch shots, numerous beers, and some weird vodka Red Bull he had gotten his little hands on. Soon enough, someone inevitably did something to piss him off somehow, resulting in loud words and hard punches.

"COME ON, SAY THAT TO MY FUCKING FACE, YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

"LIKE YOU CAN TALK ABOUT BEING LITTLE, ASSHOLE!" And Pete was off. Off the ground, that is, because he had taken that moment to launch himself at the guy that he was fighting. No one knew what they were fighting about, but apparently the last straw was the crack about height. _Ah, jeez._ Patrick thought. He sent Joe and Andy back to the van and went over to pry Pete off of the guy.

"Pete, just leave it," he reasoned. "Let's just go home, you've had too much to drink." And he wrestled Pete's struggling form into his arms and away from the scene. Once they were back outside the van with Joe and Andy safe inside, Patrick exploded.

"Pete, what the _hell_ was that about? Why would you go off and just fight someone like that for no reason at all? We really don't need this right now and you just--" And Patrick cut himself off because he realised that Pete was just standing there with his head down, not saying anything. Which would be normal for anyone else, but. This is _Pete_ we're talking about here. For him to just take all this with his head down was _just not him._ So he ducked his head down in an attempt to meet Pete's eyes and realised that he was _crying._ So he just calmed down and wrapped his arms around Pete, feeling him wrap his own arms around Patrick.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled. "It's just-I've been through a lot lately and I just-I just can't deal with it anymore. So I drank my problems away, and I don't even know why I was fighting that guy, I just--"

"It's okay," Patrick replied. "I forgive you and I'm pretty positive Joe and Hurley will, too." He paused, taking this moment to hold Pete and give him as much comfort as he could right now. "I'm still pissed as hell, though."

Pete laughed. "Yeah, me, too." And he held on tighter, knowing that it would be okay.

**3\. With That One Song**

It was another late night at Pete's basement mini "studio." Patrick and Pete were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by cheap Chinese takeout containers. Patrick had his guitar in his lap, and Pete had a notebook full of rhythmless words, soon to be arranged by Patrick's magical musical abilities. Patrick reached for the notebook, which Pete willingly handed over to him. He looked over the words already fitting them together into a puzzle of melodies and chords. Eventually, he moved on from quietly humming to strumming lightly on his guitar, figuring out the right chords and the right key, the right pattern for the feel of these words.

"Okay," he eventually said, "how's this?" And he began singing:

_"Light that smoke_  
_Yeah, one for_  
_Giving up on me_  
_And one just cause they'll kill you sooner than my expectations_  
_To my favourite liar_  
_To my favourite scar_  
_I could have died with you"_

And...Pete just sat there in awe. He had made that entire verse on his own from Pete's words in a matter of minutes? No way. There has to be some kind of catch. He took the guitar out of Patrick's hands and began inspecting it for any kind of recording or the lyrics rewritten with the chords already figured out because there's just no way--

"What the hell, dude?" Oh, yeah. He forgot: grabbing a guitar out of someone's hands with no verbal explanation whatsoever might raise suspicion out of that someone.

"I'm checking for any kind of sign of premeditated work," he explained, "because there is no fucking way you could come up with something that brilliant in a matter of minutes. I swear, dude, you are some sort of musical _Einstein,_ I swear. Where have you been all my life?"

Patrick just blushed and responded, "Um...thanks?" And what else was Pete supposed to do other than hug him? Seriously, he's taking suggestions. He set down the guitar gently to the side and leaped towards Patrick and tackled him to the ground in a bear hug. Patrick wasn't able to do anything other than give out a surprised squeak.

"You are the most wonderful person on this entire Earth, you know that?" Pete mumbled into Patrick's ear (well, more the hair behind it).

"No, actually, I didn't." Patrick replied, as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Pete's back.

"Well, you should know, because it's true. It's the truest thing I've ever said and the truest thing you'll ever hear. You're worth anything, okay? And don't you ever forget it."

Patrick stayed silent, taking it all in. Then he squeezed Pete even tighter and said, "Okay."

 

**4\. The Time Before Best Buy That No One Knows About**

Patrick was sleeping peacefully in his room, when he was jolted awake by his phone ringing and buzzing violently. He groaned and rolled over to reach over to his bedside table where his phone was lying. He tapped at his keyboard until he found the answer button and answered, "H'lo?"

"'Trick," a voice came in, shaky and worn. Pete's voice. Patrick awoke instantly, sitting up in his bed, saying, "Pete? What's wrong? And also, what the fuck, it's like 4 o'clock in the fucking morning--"

"'Trick," he repeated, even sadder than the last one. "Please." And, well, what was Patrick supposed to do other than hightail it over to Pete's place.

He sighed. "I'll be there in ten," he said as he began getting ready to leave. "Just stay out of trouble 'til I get there."

Pete let out a tired, weary not-even-chuckle. It was the saddest thing Patrick had ever heard in his entire life. Ever. "No promises." Patrick just sighed and hung up, putting his phone in his pocket, grabbing his keys, and leaving as quietly as he could so he could slip out without waking his parents up. He would be _so_ dead if they caught him sneaking out this late. Or, really, this early at this point. He walked out into the crisp November air. Soon enough, he was at Pete's house in eight minutes. He used the spare key he knew was under a small shrub by the door. He dug it out and opened and closed the door as silently as he could. He stuffed the key in his pocket and started upstairs. Upon reaching Pete's bedroom, he heard a shaking sound that sounded familiar. Too familiar.

"Oh, no, you don't," Patrick muttered to himself, running into the room. He found Pete sitting on his bed, in the middle of shaking some pills into his hand, an amount that was _definitely_ way more than what his daily dosage was supposed to be. "Why would you do this, Pete? i don't get why you think you're so unimportant. You are the heart and soul of this band, there will _never_ be a band like us, and that's all because of us: Joe, Andy, me, _and_ you. _Especially_ you. This band exists because of you. You drive us all to be our best. You drive me to live everyday like it's my last because you're _worth_ it. And don't _ever_ think otherwise. Or I may have to come over to you myself just to slap you." They laughed at that. It was nice for him to hear Pete laugh genuinely after hearing him so _unbelievably_ sad before.

"Okay."

 

**5\. That One Time During Their Break**

It was about midnight, relatively early in Patrick's Friday night schedule. They had finally gotten a break from touring, and Patrick was using every minute of it productively, he swears. Well. Maybe not _every_ minute. More like every other day, maybe. He was still awake, on his laptop, working on GarageBand, when his phone started ringing. Seeing it was Pete, he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Heyyyyyyy, Tricky-pooo!" _Oh, great,_ Patrick thought. _He's drunk again._

Patrick sighed. "Pete, where are you?" He started getting up and getting dressed, saving his work and closing out of GarageBand.

"A&K! Hey, you should come too! It'll be fuuuuun!" Pete broke out into giggles and hiccups. Patrick could almost see the cartoon bubbles coming out of his mouth when he hiccuped.

"Ok, don't move, I'm on my way to pick you up." Patrick went outside and got into his car, starting it up and backing out of the driveway.

"Okaaaaayyyyy, Tricky-boo boo bearrrr!" Patrick hung up and began driving over to the bar to retrieve his drunk bandmate. Once there, he immediately starts looking for Pete. That task is suddenly made astonishingly easy when Pete yells, "Trickyyyyy!" and begins to stumble over to Patrick. Patrick walks over to him, which turned out to be a good idea because Pete fell into his arms the moment he reached him. "'m so glad you're heeeerrrre!! Come on, 'll gechou a drnk." Pete tried to get out of Patrick's arms and over to the bar, but they were already leading him back to Patrick's car.

"No, no more drinks for you. We're going home."

"Noooooo, I wanna stay heeeerrrrrrre. Tell 'im, Lenny."

"Who's Lenny? Pete, who are you talking to?"

"Patrick, how ruuude of youu. Just cause he's a zebra doesn't mean he's any less of a person. The Len-ster is riiiight here, ain't that right, Lenny?"

"Pete, there's no zebra there, much less one named Lenny. Come on, let's get you home." He helped him stand up at least semi-straight and walked him to his car.

"Heyyyy, where's Lenny?" Pete began looking around the car frantically, even under his seat.

"He's in the backseat. Now shut up so I can drive." Patrick exited the bar parking lot and drove to Pete's house, while Pete was having a conversation with "Lenny." Once they were there, he dragged Pete out of the car and up to his room, but not without protests of _no, wait, what about Lenny?_ and replies of _Lenny left already, his mom picked him up a second ago._ Patrick helped Pete get his shoes and pants off, blushing when Pete says, "Ooohh, Pattycakes, how _scandalous!"_ Once his pants and shoes are off, Patrick puts him to bed and lifts the blankets over him. He's about to leave when, "Pattycakes?"

He sighed. _So close._ "Yeah, Pete?"

"What about my goodnight kiss?"

"Didn't Lenny give you one already?"

"No, his mom didn't want him kissing a boy like me. She has such high standards, the li'l bitch. Pleeeeeeaasssseeee?"

Patrick sighed and threw his head back thinking, _Fuck my life._ "Fine." He made his way over to Pete before kissing him on the forehead. He was about to stand back up when Pete put a hand on his warm, red cheek and pulled him in for a kiss on his lips. Patrick lingered for a bit, kind of taking advantage of his drunk state and counting on the fact that Pete wouldn't remember this moment, before pulling away. "Get some sleep, Petey."

"Kay kay, Pattycakes."

 

**+1. That One Time After the Show That Patrick Doesn't Like to Talk About**

It was a loud Saturday night at A&K. They had a small local show there before their next tour, and they fucking _crushed_ it. After the show, they had all went their separate ways saying hello to people they knew, or, in Pete's case, making new friends. After a while, Pete got bored and started looking for Patrick and bug him for entertainment. After coming empty from a search around the bar area, a worried Pete made his way outside in his frantic search for Patrick. He made his way around the building, when he heard voices coming from the back alley.

"Look, man, I have money and stuff, so, like, just take that, but--" said a voice that sounded distinctly like Patrick's.

"No, no, no," said a new gruff voice that was very clearly _not_ or anyone he knew for that matter. "It's not money I'm after sweetheart." And then there was nothing but grunts of struggle and moans of pleasure. Pete rounded the corner and saw Patrick being kissed by some guy that was slightly bigger than him, but small enough for Pete to take on and fucking _win_ because there was _no way_ he was losing Patrick this way. Patrick tried to push him away and eventually succeeded with a, "Get off!" But he was quickly pounced on again by the guy, having his hands pinned to the wall.

"Sorry, honey," the creep whispered against his neck. "You're too pretty to let go." Patrick let out a whimper of pain, fear, and, worst of all, defeat. _That was it._ Pete jumped onto the guy and kept punching and punching and _punching_ him until he was bleeding profusely from multiple areas of his face. At that point, he was surely unconscious. Pete got up, ran to Patrick, grabbed his hand, and pulled him from his spot where he was standing frozen against the wall. Once they were safe in the parking lot, he fell apart. He hugged Pete around his torso so tightly, anyone looking in on the situation would have thought he was suffocating Pete. He sobbed into Pete's shirt and said, "Thank you, thank you sososososososo _so_ much, Pete. I-I don't know what-what would have ha-happened if you hadn't come. I-I-I don't want to even _think_ about what-about what-what--" And he broke off crying again. All Pete could really do was hold him and comfort and swear to himself that he would never let this happen to Patrick ever, ever, _ever_ again. He wanted to show Patrick how much he loved and appreciated him in this moment, because he did, he _loved_ Patrick, he really did, and he wanted everyone to know.

"I'm sorry," Patrick sobbed. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't stand up for myself, it's just-it's just, he-he was saying things and touching me, and then next thing I knew, we were outside and I was against a wall and he was trying to make me touch him and I panicked and he did what he wanted, and I just-I just--" He tightened his grip on Pete's shirt.

"Hey, shhh," Pete consoled. He would _not_ let Patrick blame himself for this. "This is in no way your fault, okay? It was that sleaze's fault for having no self-control. Okay?" He felt Patrick nod against him. "I need you to know that this was not your fault, okay? You were not in control of the situation. Though we may need to get you a rape whistle. And a leash." Patrick let out a giggle in between sniffles. "Okay?"

"Okay." And Patrick looked up at Pete and said, "Thanks, Pete. I love you so much." And he did the thing that Pete expected the least: he put his hands on Pete's shoulders, leaned up and connected their lips in a soft, careful embrace. Pete stood in shock for a good second before putting his hands tentatively on Patrick's waist and kissing back. Eventually, Patrick was the one to pull away, doing so while smiling. Pete stood there for a second before snapping his eyes open.

He cleared his throat, which was suddenly feeling very dry. "Love you too," he managed, cursing himself for the voice crack on the last syllable. Patrick noticed and giggled.

"Nice voice crack."

"Hey," Pete whined. "Shut up."

"Sorry."

"No, that was the meanest thing you could have ever said to me. There's no way I'm going to accept your apology." He stubbornly crossed his arms and pouted.

"Oh, I can think of one way." Patrick kissed him again, pulling Pete's arms around his waist and wrapping his own arms around Pete's shoulders. They kissed for a few minutes before Andy came along with Joe, yelling, "Hey!" They were startled apart and looked at Andy. "You can suck face on your own time. Right now, we need to get home. We had to load the whole van on our own because you two disappeared off on your own adventures so _you're_ driving." He turned around and started walking away. Joe watched him for a second before shooting Pete a thumbs-up and a wink, mouthing, "Get some!" Pete and Patrick laughed at his ridiculousness.

"Joe!" Joe turned around and ran to Andy, yelling, "Coming!" Pete and Patrick laughed again, turning to face each other.

"We'd better get going before Andy blows a gasket," Pete said with a smile.

"Yeah," Patrick replied. "We probably should. One more kiss?" He pouted with puppy-dog eyes.

"Awww, how can I say no to the puppy-dog pout?" He smiled and leaned in, meeting Patrick in the middle. They stood like that for another minute before separating. They joined hands and walked to the van, knowing it would be alright. And Patrick wound up getting an actual rape whistle as a Christmas present from Pete.

 

**The End...?**

**Author's Note:**

> Disregard the question mark. There is no sequel.


End file.
